Friends in Low Places
by MattyDreamer
Summary: Post Season 4. House has often joked about seeing hookers, but how will everyone react when one comes looking for him? Without Wilson at his side, will House resurface or drown? Caution: Spoilers
1. Chapter 1

Title: Friends in Low Places

Warnings: Mature Themes, sexual situations, Spoilers for Season 4.

Disclaimer: House and all affiliated material is owned by Fox. All original material is my own. I made no money from the writing of this piece, but I do accept cookies.

Edna Green, age 53, had seen a lot of things in her time as head receptionist at the front desk of the prestigious PPTH, but she was certain she had never seen anything like the young woman who had just stepped through the softly whirring sliding glass entrance doors. The lady, if you could call her that, wore a long black London trench coat, over a deeply cut red satin blouse and a skirt that was so miniscule that Edna had to wonder how she managed to sit down in it without…

"Well maybe," Edna thought dryly." a girl like her doesn't worry about things like that."

This woman's shoes were something of a mystery to the older matron, at least 7 inches heels in light catching silver, Edna could hardly imagine how she managed to walk in them at all, let alone with the easy strut with which she crossed the lobby. The clicking of her audacious footwear echoed impossibly loud in the empty late night of the hospital. The girl plopped a tiny black purse unceremoniously on the clean marble counter and leaned over it, bring with her an aura of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. Her lipstick was outrageous enough to embarrass a fire engine and Edna shook her head. It was clear to her just what this woman was and a lady was most definitely not it. In her time, they had called them "ladies of the night" ,although the term lady was a somewhat loose definition to say the least, but these days she'd heard the young folk call them hookers, among other less tasteful diminutives.

" Can I help you?" she asked sharply, frowning with distaste as the scent of stale smoke rushed her from across the counter.

" Ah'm looking fer Dr. House.", the girl replied with a heavy southern twang, as she studied her absurdly long nails. She was chewing, rather loudly, on a piece of gum, and Edna had to resist the urge to tap the young woman's jaw shut, as she would her own grand daughter's. So distracted by the incessant smacking, it took her a moment to process what she had said. Her frown only deepened at the question.

Everyone in the hospital, it seemed, knew of Dr. House's many vices and schemes. Could this be one of the sex-for-money call girls he so often alluded to? Edna sighed, shaking her head again. She had never much cared for Dr. House with his crassness and deliberate lack of the very social niceties on which she was raised, yet she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, to be so terribly hurt while trying to do the right thing ( for once). Edna smoothed her perfect, silver coif with one hand, absently moving some papers at her desk with the other.

" I'm sorry, but Dr. House is not available right now. Is there someone else I can direct you to?" , she asked, trying to hide the unease and contempt she felt. The young woman's constant chewing stopped short, her too-red lips forming a thin angry line on a face heavily layer with make-up. Under the thick eye liner and fake lashes, a pair of clear green eyes flashed.

" Excuse me?" , the woman snapped.

" I'm sorry, Miss. He's not seeing anyone right now." The woman rolled her eyes.

" Look lady. He knows Ah'm coming. So why don't you just get on your little phone, call up tah his office an' let'm know Ah'm on my way up, 'kay?", she ground out sarcastically. Edna raised an eyebrow. So House was one of her clients! What a story she was going to have to tell the ladies at bridge tomorrow!

" I'm sorry, Miss, but that's just not possible." The woman frowned, well manicured brows furrowing as she studied the receptionist. Slowly, her eyes filled with worry.

" Oh my Gawd, what's happened tah him?", she asked softly, her voice trembling with worry. Edna shifted uncomfortable behind her desk, compassion at the girl's seemingly genuine concern, pushing aside her distaste for her obvious "profession".

" Why don't you have a seat, while I call a doctor to speak to you?", she replied gently, picking up the phone..

" A doctor?", the young woman repeated dazedly as she clicked her way to a seat. Dropping carelessly onto the cushion, she rummaged through her purse without aim.

The phone began to ring.

--


	2. Tip

A/N: Yes this might end up being an OC/House for a short while, but this is not the same hooker from earlier in the series. Toss me plot bunnies, questions etc. because Arabic is killing my brain! Love to my reviewers!

To say Foreman was tired was very nearly the understatement of the century. The deep bone ache of exhaustion was almost overpowering, seeming to start somewhere in his marrow and echo relentlessly outward. With eyes half closed, he stared blankly at the paperwork on the desk, head nodding slowly towards his chest. Suddenly, he jerked harshly, forcing himself awake with an iron will.

Just a few more forms and he could go home

Just a few more forms and he could go home.

Just a few………………………………...

The phone began to ring and he looked at it murderously before snatching it off it's cradle.

"Dr. Foreman.", he snapped.

"Dr. Foreman?", said the crisp voice on the other end. "This is Mrs. Green at the front desk."

Foreman sighed, running one hand over a face rough with stubble.

"Yeah?"

"Yes!", she corrected sharply, calling to mind his grandmother and her uncompromising stand on etiquette. Her fierce brown eyes flashed briefly in his mind's eye. "There's a young woman waiting to speak to you in the lobby." The "why?" was till on his lips when the line clicked and disconnected, leaving him only the blaring dial tone to question.

A few minutes later, Foreman was stalking through the lobby, rumpled lab coat snapping sharply as he moved. Edna waved him vaguely towards the sliding glass front entrance doors, before dropping her gaze, non-committal. Outside, he could see a curly black mass of hair in a trench coat, pacing amid a fog of smoke. He sighed. "What now?"

The balmy night embraced him, clinging to his skin like a desperate lover.

"It's warm to be wearing a coat.", he commented blandly. The woman wheeled effortlessly in tall heels and scowled. Her outfit left little to the imagination. Foreman shook his heart with pity and the slightest tinge of disgust, unable to stop himself. She planted on hand on her hip and took an agitated drag of her cigarette. Green eyes gave him a quick once over, leaving him with the faint sensation of being frisked.

" You must be Dr. Foreman. Greg talks about you sometimes." She let the comment hang in the air, with a half smile full of challenge and authority, daring him to tell her to leave. When he made no response, she pursed her lips and spoke in a softer tone, Southern drawl thick with worry. " What happened to him?"

Foreman cleared his throat, his disclaimer surprisingly fresh in an awkward, tired mind. " I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't release - "

"Cut the crap!", she snapped, jabbing her cigarette at him, like a punctuation. **" What happened?"**

A pair of green eyes locked with a set of brown in a brief, battle of wills, but Foreman relented first. He was too tired for this.

" He was in a bus accident. He's had a heart attack and a severe skull fracture. He's been in a coma for the past few days, but we think he might be coming out of it." Already anticipating her next question, he turned to head back inside, missing the fleeting, stricken, look on the young woman's face. If her face was pale underneath the layers of cosmetic, it was hard to tell underneath the florescent lights, " Come on.", he called over his shoulder.

The woman pitched her smoke, hurriedly chasing after him.

As they entered the lobby, Edna's penciled eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was apparent that she'd expected Dr. Foreman to scare her off. He glowered at her, silently telling the old bitty to mind her own damn business. In a few minutes, he could dump the hooker in Chase's lap ( not literally), and he could go home to his bed. Let her be someone else's problem. He'd had more than his share. Besides, with any luck, House would owe her money and Chase would have to settle the score.

They found Dr. Chase at the nurses station, looking disgustingly well rested.

" Foreman? What are you still doing here?" he asked cheerfully, trying to keep his eyes on the Doctor and not his rather unique companion. He glanced at his watch, covering for his curiosity.

" Trying to get home." Foreman grunted sourly. " This is -" He fumbled, suddenly aware he hadn't bothered to ask her name.

" Tippah. Tippah Grace." She supplied, extending her hand. " Ah'm heah tah see Greg."

_Greg?_

_Chase looked in askance to the other doctor, only to catch a glimpse of Foreman's hasty escape. Whatever was going on here, it was apparently his problem now. _

" _If you'll follow me, Ms. Grace." he said, when he could think of nothing else._

"_Please," she replied coquettishly, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. " Call me Tip."_


End file.
